Perhaps no one expected that despite Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu’s continuous efforts, until Yan Bao reached second grade in elementary school, they still hadn’t given him the long-promised little sister.

Over these years, they had consulted numerous doctors, hired nutritionists to improve their health, and even made adequate pre-pregnancy preparations multiple times. Ji Mingshu had even earnestly tried various post-intercourse positions, but there was not the slightest sign of a little sister coming.

As days passed by, after Cen Yan became an elementary school student, Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu gradually gave up on the idea of welcoming little Zhuo. First, there was nothing wrong with either of their bodies; their inability to conceive could only be attributed to the fact that some things couldn’t be forced. Second, taking care of one elementary school student, Cen Yan, was already giving them enough headaches.

Originally, they had thought that since Cen Yan showed outstanding performance in interests like drawing, piano, and violin, they wouldn’t need to worry about his academics.

Unexpectedly, after entering first grade, Cen Yan’s test scores consistently floated in the lower-middle ranks of his class. By second grade, he had gloriously become a regular at the very bottom.

Looking at the returned test papers, although the elementary school student’s handwriting showed some of the uninhibited character typical of school-aged boys, it was clear he had been answering seriously.

But when carefully examining the answers, Ji Mingshu was filled with question marks every time.

“Little Hong bought ten new books. After reading three of them, how many are left? Isn’t ten minus three equal to seven? Why did you answer ten?” Ji Mingshu patiently asked, pointing at a question on the test paper that the teacher had marked with a bright red X.

Little Cen Yan looked up adorably, three cowlicks standing up on his forehead, and confidently replied, “Books don’t fly away after you read them. Of course, there are still ten left.”

Ji Mingshu: “But after reading three…”

Cen Yan interrupted, “After reading them, do you throw them away? That’s so wasteful! Besides, Yan Bao learned an ancient poem: ‘Read a book a thousand times, and its meaning will become clear.’ You need to keep a book to read it many times!”

Ji Mingshu paused for a few seconds, then looked at the question again.

Well, the question didn’t explicitly ask how many books were left unread after reading three. So maybe Cen Yan’s reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong.

Before Ji Mingshu could finish pondering, Cen Sen, sitting on the other side, had already made a mark next to the question with his pen and concluded in a deep voice, “The question is not rigorous.”

Cen Yan looked at Cen Sen with starry eyes and nodded in deep agreement.

Cen Sen corrected him, “‘ Read a book a thousand times, and its meaning will become clear,’ ‘clear’ here is pronounced ‘xian.’ Also, this is not a poem. You can call it an idiom or a classical text.”

Little Cen Yan, like a little adult, rested his chin on his hands, thought for a moment, and asked curiously, “Why is it pronounced ‘xian,’ and why isn’t it a poem?”

Cen Sen was unusually patient, breaking it down thoroughly for this curious little one. He wasn’t like some parents who would brush off explanations, thinking children wouldn’t understand.

When Cen Yan finished his questions, the family of three continued analyzing the test paper. Ji Mingshu discovered that for almost every seemingly outrageous answer, Cen Yan could give some sort of explanation that, from his perspective, seemed to have a bit of twisted logic.

After going through everything, Cen Yan would always look up at her with his small face, troubled and puzzled, asking, “Mama, don’t you also think Yan Bao didn’t make a mistake? If Yan Bao didn’t make a mistake, why didn’t the teacher give Yan Bao a checkmark?”

Ji Mingshu: “…”

This question was truly difficult to answer. Forcing this elementary school student with an active mind to think along conventional lines seemed like a constraint for him. But if they kept encouraging this kind of jumping thought process, she was worried about fostering a stubbornness in the elementary school student to always take the unconventional path.

As the person who usually had the most to say in the household, faced with Cen Yan’s slightly aggrieved inquiry, Ji Mingshu was momentarily speechless and even felt a strange sense of self-blame for being “unworthy of motherhood.”

Ji Mingshu had no choice; with the elementary school student looking up at her expectantly, she could only look expectantly at the elementary student’s father.

The elementary student’s father looked up in understanding, momentarily meeting her gaze. He suddenly loosened his collar, one corner of his lips imperceptibly curving upward, with what seemed like a hint of amusement in his eyes.

After living together for so many years, if Ji Mingshu still didn’t understand the hidden meanings behind Cen Sen’s small gestures and subtle expressions, then she might as well not be Mrs. Cen.

She silently shifted her gaze, then casually stroked Cen Yan’s head as if nothing had happened.

Cen Sen, seeing her tacit approval, deepened his not-so-obvious smile a bit more.

Cen Yan was completely unaware that his Baba and Mama had just concluded an unspeakable “deal” right in front of him through a few small gestures and eye contacts. He was still immersed in the distress of not getting a checkmark from the teacher despite not being wrong.

Fortunately, his unyielding father, after the “deal” was concluded, quickly chose to stand on his side, telling him he hadn’t done anything wrong, and even encouraged him to continue interpreting questions according to his own thought process in the future. Only then did the elementary school student breathe a sigh of relief and stop worrying.

After completing the daily family tutoring for the elementary school student, it was still early. Cen Sen called the homeroom teacher, offering some opinions on the rigor of the school’s test questions, while also having an in-depth discussion with the teacher about encouraging diverse reasonable answers for certain questions and not constraining children’s imagination and thinking.

Ji Mingshu sat to the side, eating tangerines and eyeing him sideways, inwardly jeering.

Pretending to be so earnest, like some once-in-a-century kind father, but in reality, for him to personally open his mouth to comfort their elementary school student, he had to get some benefit from her. Pff! Cen Skinflint, true to his nature!

As if sensing something, Cen Skinflint suddenly glanced at her, then pointed to his somewhat dry throat.

Ji Mingshu understood but was too lazy to respond. She shifted her gaze and continued happily putting tangerine segments into her mouth.

But just as a freshly peeled segment reached her lips, her wrist was suddenly grasped.

Cen Sen leaned closer, speaking calmly to the teacher on the phone while looking at her. He slowed his movements and snatched that sweet, juicy tangerine segment from her lips.

Ji Mingshu: “…”

Stealing food right from her mouth!

Absolutely shameless!

What was even more shameless was that after finishing the call with the teacher, Cen Sen fully lived up to his “Skinflint” nickname, picking Ji Mingshu up horizontally and returning to the bedroom to collect his “payment.”

Interestingly enough, despite Cen Sen and Ji Mingshu’s serious efforts for several years without creating a baby to repay the “huge debt” that Cen Yan brought up every now and then, their playful banter and “payment collection” ended up with an unexpected hit.

After years without news, Ji Mingshu didn’t even think about it. She was over a month pregnant without knowing it, and even personally went out for field surveys, planning for the annual charity renovation project that her studio undertook.

In the scorching summer afternoon, with the sun blazing high, after suddenly leaving the air conditioning and standing outside an old house for over ten minutes, Ji Mingshu felt a bit dizzy.

An’ning was attentive and noticed her unusual complexion, quickly supporting her and asking quietly.

Ji Mingshu, thinking that someone was about to come and unlock the door, shook her head and said, “I’m fine, just a bit hot.”

Fearing she might get heatstroke, An’ning held an umbrella over her.

An’ning had not studied interior design in university, but when she later chose elective modules, because this module had high assessment difficulty and many students were unwilling to choose it, she registered too late and was unexpectedly assigned to this elective course.

Who would have thought that the more she was exposed to it, the more interested she became in this elective course? At graduation, after much hesitation, with Ji Mingshu’s support, she chose to pursue further studies in interior design abroad. After returning to China post-graduation, she naturally began interning at Ji Mingshu’s interior design studio.

Perhaps with age, one values the remaining traces of kinship more, or perhaps, having satisfied greater needs, past losses no longer feel so significant. In these years, Cen Sen’s attitude toward Chen Biqing and An’ning had softened considerably. He would call during holidays and tacitly approve Cen Yan calling An’ning “Auntie” and Chen Biqing “Grandma.”

As for the Cen family elders, they maintained a non-interference stance of “you don’t say, I don’t ask” toward their interactions.

After waiting outside for another two minutes, An’ning noticed Ji Mingshu’s complexion worsening. Before she could speak, Ji Mingshu suddenly staggered, her eyes half-closed, falling backward.

“Sister-in-law!” An’ning was so frightened that she even called out her private address for Ji Mingshu. She managed to support Ji Mingshu and loudly called for help.

Previously, when Ji Mingshu participated in an interior design reality show, she had suddenly fainted and, upon waking, anxiously imagined she had some incurable disease.

This time, there was no room for such imagination. Just as she was hazily regaining consciousness, Yan Bao stood by the bed, clapping his little hands and announcing the major news in a crisp voice, “Mama, you’re finally awake! There’s a little sister in your tummy!”

After announcing this, he leaned forward and gave Ji Mingshu a smacking kiss.

“Mama needs to rest. You go call Grandma and Auntie to let them know she’s okay.”

Cen Sen, finding him noisy, picked him up from behind and placed him on the sofa to the right of the hospital bed.

It took Ji Mingshu quite a while to react, and as she sat up in bed, she asked, “I’m… pregnant?”

“Yes, five weeks along.”

Cen Sen ruffled her hair and planted a kiss on her lips.

Ji Mingshu was still a bit dazed, but little Cen Yan reacted quickly by covering his eyes and drawing out his voice in disgust, “Eww—shameful!”

Though his mouth said “shameful,” his chubby little legs excitedly swung up and down. Through the gaps between his fingers, you could see his grape-like eyes unblinkingly round, smiling like a little cat who had stolen some cream, showing a row of neat, clean little teeth.

No one was happier about Ji Mingshu’s pregnancy than the elementary school student Cen Yan.

The style of his Chinese and English diaries suddenly changed. From the previous “Today I ate xxx, played xxx, it was a wonderful day,” they evolved into “Today is the xx day since my little sister sprouted. Mama had a check-up today, and my little sister is very healthy. I’m so happy.”

The Chinese and English teachers, forced to review Cen Yan’s little sister’s sprouting records daily, unwittingly became members of the little sister growth observation team.

Before Ji Mingshu gave birth, both teachers called one after another to offer their well-wishes, repeatedly referring to the yet-unborn little one as “Student Cen Yan’s little sister.”

In fact, during this pregnancy, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen didn’t deliberately check the gender, and they repeatedly corrected Cen Yan, telling him that what was in Mama’s belly might not be a little sister. But Cen Yan pouted and refused to listen, saying they were both big liars, owing him a little sister for such a long, long time, and that he, being kind-hearted, hadn’t even asked for interest.

Ji Mingshu genuinely worried about this for several days, thinking that if she gave birth to a little brother, would Yan Bao keep demanding repayment from her?

But pregnancy was so difficult; her morning sickness was particularly severe this time. The first few months were absolute torture, and after having this one, she never wanted to have another.

Fortunately, as Cen Yan wished, Ji Mingshu smoothly gave birth to a baby girl.

When they heard it was a baby girl, Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen both inexplicably breathed sighs of relief.

Being in debt for several years and having their little ancestor chase them for repayment now and then was truly terrifying.

Before Cen Yan was born, Cen Sen had already drafted names for a girl, so the baby had her formal name as soon as she was born: Cen Zhuo.

Zhuo Bao was a beautiful and adorable girl whose personality seemed to take after Cen Sen, more—quieter and rarely crying.

But she had her little insistences. Apart from her father, mother, and brother, she wouldn’t let anyone else hold her.

At first, Ji Mingshu was concerned that Zhuo Bao might be too quiet and might lag in intelligence, but reality proved that Zhuo Bao was a typical “less talk, more action” practitioner. She mastered basic skills like rolling over, sitting up, and crawling much earlier than Cen Yan had.

Once superior, always superior.

The quiet Cen Zhuo showed her astonishing intelligence from the moment she could speak, learning everything in one go.

Ji Mingshu would casually play musical dramas to cultivate the children’s temperament, and Cen Zhuo could repeat several English lines after watching just once.

When building Lego blocks for different age groups with Cen Yan, after completing her own, she could even offer guidance to Cen Yan.

When Cen Yan struggled to memorize ancient poems after school despite many recitations, she could silently mouth the words to remind him during Ji Mingshu’s spot checks.

With such obvious comparisons, Cen Yan was not ashamed but proud, boasting to everyone about having a beautiful, adorable, and intelligent little sister.

When Cen Yan was in sixth grade, a bold little girl in his class confessed to him and declared she wanted to attend the same middle school as him in the future.

He seriously rejected her, grandly stating that children shouldn’t date early.

He was just saving face for the little girl. His real thought was that she wasn’t as excellent as his sister, and he wanted to find a girlfriend as excellent as his sister in the future.

When Cen Yan graduated from sixth grade, Mingshui Mansion was being renovated, and the family temporarily moved to a large flat apartment in the city center. Ji Mingshu accidentally discovered a diary completed by the ultimate sister-complex-afflicted Cen Yan.

“Zhuo Bao’s eyelashes are so long, even longer than Mama’s. Is this what they call ‘the student surpassing the master’?”

“I’ve never seen a girl as obedient and sensible as our Zhuo Bao. Even though Mama’s cooking tastes so strange, she can still praise it as delicious. Sigh, should I learn more from Zhuo Bao? But the taste is strange.”

“Zhuo Bao turns two today! I got Baba to make a birthday cake for Zhuo Bao by hand, but after finishing, Baba unexpectedly made a separate small strawberry cake for Mama, too. He said Mama is also a baby and would be jealous without a cake. When we got home, Mama was indeed a little jealous (though not obvious, but still noticed by the attentive me), but when the small strawberry cake was brought out, she became all smiles. Baba is so smart.”

…

Ji Mingshu found it both irritating and amusing.

Suddenly, a familiar cold pine scent enveloped her from behind. She took the opportunity to hold up the diary and tattled, “Look at what nonsense your son is writing!”

Cen Sen glanced at it, unperturbed, “Didn’t the teacher mark it as excellent? How is it nonsense?”

Ji Mingshu turned around, meeting his gaze.

The afternoon sunlight was warm and pleasant; the children were at school, and the house was quiet.

She suddenly wrapped her arms around Cen Sen’s neck and asked in a tiny voice, “Will I always be your baby?”

Cen Sen’s voice contained a smile, “Yes.”